


Preemptive

by Wolfling



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1198737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt the tension in Stiles' body next to him, watched his long fingers grip the game controller tighter.  He could smell the anxiety wafting off Stiles at the question. "I'm...." <em>fine</em>, Scott finished for him in his head, knowing it was what Stiles was planning on saying. But then his character died onscreen and Stiles just stared at it for a moment, before slumping back against the couch cushions. "I'm really <em>not</em>," he said instead with painful honesty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preemptive

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently my reaction to each episode of Teen Wolf trying to break my heart with Stiles feels is to write fics set after the season ends where Stiles is a) no longer possessed, b) not sick, and c) trying to deal with everything that happened.
> 
> The Scott and Stiles scene in 3.18 brought me to tears and I felt the need to have them revisit it after everything was over.

If you didn't look too closely, it would seem like things got back to normal with remarkable swiftness. And it was nice to just put all the horror behind them and embrace normality and the mundane, even if they all had to pretend to do it. Sometimes you had to if you were ever going to be able to move forward.

Scott let them do it, even indulged in pretending sometimes himself, but mostly he just watched and tried to be there when he was needed. Partially because it was his job as the Alpha, yeah but it was more than that. 

He'd been a best friend long before he was a werewolf.

He'd worried at first that he wouldn't know what to do. What Stiles had been through was just so big, so traumatic and horrifying, Scott wasn't sure what, if anything, he could do that would be more help than harm. He tried to take his cues from Stiles who was pretending harder than any of them that everything was back to normal so Scott did his best to treat him exactly as he had before. He was rewarded with some of the tension he could sense in Stiles relaxing and it seemed to become easier for him to just be.

Still, Scott was well versed in the ways of Stiles Stilinski and knew that as hard as Stiles was trying to pretend he was completely back to normal, he wasn't. Not yet. There were too many moments of stillness, of silence that were very much un-Stileslike that gave it away.

It reminded Scott a lot of how Stiles had been when his Mom had been sick and after she had died so he did what he'd done back then. He waited until one of those moments of silence fell when they were alone together -- sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch playing video games on a Saturday afternoon.

"Hey Stiles?" 

"Yeah?" Stiles said, not taking his eyes off the screen, and the game they were playing.

"You okay?"

He felt the tension in Stiles' body next to him, watched his long fingers grip the game controller tighter. He could smell the anxiety wafting off Stiles at the question. "I'm...." _fine_ , Scott finished for him in his head, knowing it was what Stiles was planning on saying. But then his character died onscreen and Stiles just stared at it for a moment, before slumping back against the couch cushions. "I'm really _not_ ," he said instead with painful honesty. 

Scott paused the game and put his controller down. He considered turning to face Stiles, but figured it might be easier for Stiles to talk if he wasn't looking directly at him. So instead he slumped down beside him, their shoulders touching.

"You know you don't have to be, right?" he said after a moment's silence. "You're allowed to be not okay."

"I know. I've been through a traumatizing experience and it's perfectly natural to need time to process it." Scott recognized the phrase as something Stiles had got from the therapy he'd had after his Mom had died. "It's just..." Stiles' hands flailed around a little before clenching into fists, "I'm so _tired_ of being not okay. I'd like to get to the place where I can go more than five minutes without thinking about... that."

Scott wished that there was some way he could make that happen for Stiles, but he knew that wasn't something anyone could do. "You will," he said, trying to stay upbeat, knocking his shoulder against Stiles'. "It's just going to take time."

"I know. It's just..." He made a sound of frustration and clenched his fists again. He glanced sideways just enough to meet Scott's gaze. "Y'know?"

"I know." He bumped shoulders with Stiles again. "It sucks."

Stiles snorted an unamused laugh. "Damn right it sucks. And you know what the worst.... The nogitsune setting up shop in my head wasn't the worst part. I mean it was _bad_. It was horrifying, terrifying, and I'm probably going to have nightmares about it and what it did and its stupid voice and its stupid riddles for the rest of my life, but it's not the worst part. In the end, we beat it, _I_ beat it, kicked it out and shut the door and added a couple hundred extra deadbolts to make sure it _stays_ shut. The chances of that happening again are vanishingly small. It's over and done with. So it's bad, but it's not the worst.

"But the other..." 

"The other?" Scott prodded when Stiles trailed off.

"Me having what my Mom had." Stiles swallowed hard. "That's the worst part."

"But you don't have it," Scott reminded him. "You didn't have it, that was just the nogitsune messing with the first test results."

Stiles nodded. "I know. And believe me, no one was more relieved than I was when we got the test results that showed that I was okay. Except maybe my Dad. Did you know he cried the night I came home after? He waited until he thought I was asleep and locked himself in his room because he didn't want me to know, but I heard him. My Dad's one of the strongest men I know and I made him cry."

"He was just happy you were okay," Scott told him. "I cried a little too the night you got to come home. It was emotional."

This time it was Stiles who bumped their shoulders together. "That's because you're a big old softie," he teased, voice filled with affection.

Scott couldn't deny that, at least when it came to Stiles.

They were silent again for a few moments, then Stiles stirred, pressing closer to Scott, but not looking at him at all. "Do you know what was one of the first things I thought though when I found out I didn't have it? I thought, ' _This time_ '.

"Because frontotemporal dementia tends to run in families and it's always going to be something I'm at risk of getting. I mean, this isn't exactly news, I've known that since I researched the hell out of it back in fifth grade. But that was always, y'know, the future. I could worry about it when I was older.

"I guess I convinced myself that I didn't have to worry until I was the same age my Mom was when she got it. I knew it happened sometimes to people younger than that -- to teens even -- but that's a lot more rare and... I don't know. " He gave a half shrug, looking down at his hands. "Denial's a funny thing. I guess I thought Mom didn't get it when she was this young so I wouldn't either. 

"Until I did. And I know, Scott, that it wasn't real, but it could've been. It could've been. I can't get back my nice comfortable denial anymore. Now I freak out a little every time I have a nightmare or can't get to sleep or any of the other things that's probably something perfectly normal but could possibly be a symptom because I know. I know I could come down with it tomorrow and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

Scott could smell Stiles' distress and shifted, wrapping one arm around Stiles' shoulders, pulling him closer. Stiles came willingly, turning and wrapping his arms around Scott in return, transforming the side bro embrace into a full on hug of comfort.

Scott tightened his grip and said, "What I said before still holds. If you have it -- if you _ever_ have it, I'll do something." They both knew what he meant. "Okay?"

Stiles nodded his head against Scott's shoulder, then pulled back, resuming his original slump on the couch. "What if I want you to do something preemptively?" he asked, voice careful.

Scott froze, not expecting that question. "Do you?" he finally said, in just as careful a tone as Stiles.

"I honestly don't know," Stiles said, letting his breath out in a huge gusting sigh. "I mean I like who I am -- what I am, warts and all, I do. But if I was a werewolf, I could stop worrying about... that. My _Dad_ could stop worrying about it. It would be one less thing to have nightmares about."

"You do realize that being a werewolf comes with a whole new set of things to worry about, right?" Scott wasn't trying to dissuade him necessarily, but it was a big change to deal with.

Stiles actually gave a snort of laughter at that. "Yeah, Scott, I know. I had a front row seat to your wolfy awakening, remember? Trust me, I know it wouldn't be all rainbows and puppies." He got more serious again. "But if I asked for the Bite, even if I wasn't sick, would you give it to me?"

There was only one answer to that. "Yes," Scott said, meeting Stiles' gaze unflinchingly. "If you ask."

The scent Stiles was putting out shifted from anxiety to relief in an instant and he slumped sideways, leaning his weight against Scott's side. "Thanks. I... I'm not asking right now. I want to think about it some more, weigh my options. But knowing for sure that that _is_ an option... it makes a difference. So thanks."

"Anytime," Scott said, feeling himself relax some as well. Even if that hadn't been how he'd expected the conversation to go, it had obviously helped Stiles and that was all he wanted.

They stayed like that for a few long moments, before Stiles stirred and tilted his head so he could look up at Scott without moving from his current half sprawled position. "Hey, aren't I supposed to be kicking your virtual ass right now?"

Scott grinned. "You mean getting _your_ virtual ass kicked by me."

"In your dreams, McCall." Stiles flailed himself back into a sitting position and reached for his discarded controller. "Get ready, buddy. Because you are going _down_."

Scott made a dive for his own controller, grabbing it just as Stiles unpaused the game and the two of them quickly got lost in video game violence and trash talk.

Scott knew that they would be revisiting the conversation, though he wasn't sure if Stiles would actually ask for the Bite or not. It didn't matter though because Scott would do whatever Stiles needed, just like Stiles always came through for Scott.

That's what brothers did for each other after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://fwolfling.tumblr.com/).


End file.
